


it's all fun and games

by doofusface



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Established Relationship, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, THE NOT FAKE DATING BUT SOMEHOW FAKE DATING AU, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 11:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16240865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: Peter says, “Shall we?” as he holds his other hand out to the car, fresh from a car wash and roof-to-rims cleaning.MJ says, “We shall,” as she disconnects their hands and loops her arm through his instead.The night is young.And it’son.





	it's all fun and games

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't tell myself or anyone that it would be short which is a big step for me
> 
> this turned out a lot less like the floor is feelings because it got Soft but there's def some jokes in there
> 
> tw mentions of explosions and gunshots
> 
> it's a wild ride below (both format and...plot. -wise.) so have fun?? I guess????

**_forth_ **

 

Ned’s been staring at them for the past ten minutes, gauging—or trying to—how to proceed with this…new information.

Neither of them can blame him, really, all things considered.

It’s not the typical way of going about things.

Certainly not the typical way of starting a relationship.

…If they could even call it that.

Peter thinks, _She’s not_ really _into me_.

MJ thinks, _He’s not_ really _into me_.

Ned thinks, _They’re_ really _into each other._

_But there’s no_ _way_.

“So,” Ned starts, squinting now. His hands come together, rounding out a half dome to cover his mouth.

“So,” Peter says.

“You’re dating.”

Peter glances at MJ.

She nods.

“…Yes.”

“You’re…I’m sorry, I still don’t… _get_ it,” Ned says, open hands gesturing to them as he leans back into the wooden seat. “This. This thing. That you guys are doing.”

“Dating?” MJ offers blankly. She’s shoulder to shoulder with Peter, arms and elbows touching.

Hands…not so much.

Ned tilts his head, nostrils flaring slightly as he makes a rising _mmm_ sound, matching the twirling gears in his head.

MJ purses her lips. “…You don’t believe us.”

Ned continues making the sound, hitting the next octave as he adds a little head shake.

“We’re dating,” Peter says seriously, convincing only himself.

“No, see,” Ned says, face scrunched up as he wags a finger at them accusingly. “Me and Betty? _We’re_ dating.” He zigzags his finger in the air, shaking his head again. “You two? Not dating.”

“How would you know? You weren’t on the dates,” MJ says, squinting in her _Decathlon Captain Who Just Caught You Missing Practice_ way.

“Uh, because there weren’t any?”

“There _were_.”

“Nah, dude.”

Peter frowns. “We can prove it.”

Ned crosses his arms, jutting his chin out at them. “Proceed.”

Peter shifts in his seat, eyeing Ned.

This is how this mess started.

Proving things.

But they’ve dug the ditch, and they’re in it now.

Stuck and stable.

“You’re _on_ ,” Peter says, the smallest possible smirk gracing his face as he turns to MJ.

They’ve practiced this.

_Man_ , have they _practiced_ this.

It’s a tandem movement—precise, deliberate. MJ brings a hand up to his cheek and his hands find her waist, all while closing the distance between their lips.

The kiss is soft, as it always is.

It also makes MJ wish feelings could be canceled, as it always does.

And makes Peter wish this game wasn’t a game, as it always feels.

Ned’s gawking when they break apart—something they don’t rush to do—and they think, separately, _I win_.

“So?” MJ says, licking her lips out of habit.

(Peter 100% notices.

He also 100% says nothing.)

“You—” Ned replies, mouth floundering. There’s a part of him that thinks he’s saying words, but there’s the other part that’s forgotten his bilingual skills and the spattering of Spanish he’s been practicing the last few months.

Peter’s smirk widens, and he leans back in his chair, arms crossed proudly. “Told you.”

“ _When_ ,” Ned says in a moment of clarity. His jaw’s still somewhere on the table or floor, but his eyes are determined, unconvinced. “ _How_.”

They’ve practiced _this_ , too.

MJ sneaks her arm through Peter’s, joining him in a lazy slouch. “Last month.”

“While you were in the Philippines,” Peter adds, placing a hand over where hers rests on his bicep.

It’s not entirely false, which is how Peter “ _Can’t Lie At All, Ever_ ” Parker manages to get through it without a shake in his voice.

Because, see, it _did_ happen last month. While Ned was in the Philippines.

Before school started.

Before they had to bring it up to people.

But.

This _is_ Ned.

“I’m watchin’ you,” Ned says, squinting harder. “Something’s up, and I am _watchin’. You._ ”

“Stalker,” MJ blanks.

“Your ‘boyfriend’ has a mask that records everything he does.”

“Karen’s objective and helpful.”

“I’m…gonna figure this out,” Ned says, lips pursed. “And then you guys are gonna tell me what’s up, ‘cause _something’s_ up.”

“Dude, you used to tease us about getting together,” Peter squints. “Why aren’t you, like, happier?”

MJ nods along subtly beside him, gaze piercing.

“Best friend’s intuition,” Ned squints, rubbing his chin like a TV detective.

“Whatever you say, Leeds,” MJ blanks, leaning over the table and grabbing his wrist to check his watch. “Table it, though—we’re gonna be late for class.”

Peter grabs her bag and his own as he stands, hauling them over a shoulder each, shrugging like, _It’s Real, Trust Us_. MJ stands and slides the chairs back in, throwing Ned a quick salute before reclaiming her bag.

Ned watches them go, hand in hand, bumping shoulders periodically. The growing crowd of criss-crossing students parts for them, and he hears the aftermath of a drone crashing into at _least_ four students.

He stands, altogether too dramatic for a non-existent audience, raises his chin, squints, and whispers to himself, “…It’s too _easy_.”

_There’s no way._

_There’s just no freakin’ way._

 

**_back_ **

 

_It’s after, in the car._

_After the lights and the sounds and the teenage teenager-ness of Betty’s last summer party._

_It’s the car ride on the way home, in May’s car, with MJ claiming shotgun even though she’s the only passenger, and Peter driving and inwardly lamenting his lack of a date._

_Well._

_Of this_ being _a date._

_(It’s all too bad, really._

_She was thinking the same thing.)_

_“Peter Parker, resident gentleman_ and _part-time superhero,” MJ teases lazily, scrolling through her feed as she reclines her seat. “These photos are_ lit _. How are you still single?”_

_Peter frowns, but a laugh escapes when he glances over at the red light. “Uh, I think your words were, ‘_ No one can handle the sheer amount of pop culture that funnels through your brain and out your mouth _,’—and then you called me a loser. Again. So.”_

_“My objective observations shouldn’t hinder your search for love.”_

_Peter wants to say,_ I don’t wanna find someone new.

_But he_ hmphs _instead and says, “Okay, well, whattabout you? Why aren’t_ you _dating anyone?”_

_“People are too scared to date me,” MJ laughs, clicking her phone shut. “Or think I’m too weird.”_

_“That’s not true.”_

_“Kinda is.”_

_“I’d date you,” Peter says, masking it with a laugh._

_MJ wants to say,_ So why haven’t you?

_But she turns with a wide, amused grin instead and says, “Oh? You sure about that?”_

_“Sure, you’re…you’re great. And pretty. Pretty great.”_

_“Lame joke—you wouldn’t last two seconds.”_

_“MJ, I will literally take you on a date. This week. Just to prove it to you.”_

_MJ hums. “…You know I don’t subscribe to traditional courtship.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“But my mom does.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“And I love my mom.”_

_“I’ll ask for her permission when I drop you off.”_

_“Oho—this I gotta see.”_

Snort. _“It’s gonna suck for you, anyway—you’ll be stuck with me.”_

_“Many worse people to date.”_

_(Was that too honest?)_

_“…Really?” Peter asks softly._

_(Probably too honest.)_

Cough _, as she looks straight ahead. “…Light’s green.”_

_“Oh.”_

_The low thrum of music takes over as he keeps driving._

_Keeps thinking._

_Keeps chickening out._

* * *

_It’s at the light before her house._

_“But…yeah,” MJ says, raising her seat._

_“Huh?”_

_“That there are worse people to date,” she half-mumbles._

_They get beeped at by the lone car behind them before Peter can reply, and when he turns into her street and pulls up to her house she nudges him, smirking._

_“Last chance to run,” she jokes._

_He shuts off the car._

_It’s the smirk on his face that makes her frown._

_It’s the smug tone and waggling eyebrows that make her guts constrict._

_He grins. “You always said I sucked at running away.”_

* * *

_(He asks her mom._

_She didn’t think he would go this far, but yep._

_It’s sealed._

_They have a date on Friday._

_She’s probably going to die.)_

* * *

_(So, of course, she’s decided to take him down with her.)_

 

**_forth_ **

 

Ned tells Betty to not trust them, even though he didn’t have to, because she’s almost as good as MJ at reading people and there is an aura of _Sketchy™️_ about their somewhat sudden relationship.

Not that the _idea_ of it was new, but…

Just…

They were _way_ too calm.

MJ was notorious for being unreadable, but _Peter_?

_Not_ doe-eyed every five minutes?

Impossible if they were really together, and this were new.

She brings it up to them one day and the noticeable shift in their patterns is even sketchier—the fawning, the sighing, the almost gag-inducing sweetness.

(If they think it’s helping them seem legit, she would like to shove them towards a ten-page list of why that isn’t even vaguely true.)

 

**_back_ **

 

_Peter’s greatest mistake when he picks her up on Friday is to assume she hadn’t changed from what she wore to school._

_She changes, alright._

_And it’s not like he hasn’t seen MJ in a dress before, because he has._

_A lot more than people think, really._

_But it’s…_

_It’s that she’d even dressed up._

_For him._

_Or for this date._

_This date that they’re both evenly joking about._

_And, like, he gets it._

_He dressed up, too._

_Got a nice blazer and a nice, clean collared shirt._

_Lookin’ spiffy, if May’s to be believed—and she is, always._

_Thinks he’s gonna blow MJ off her feet and claim the win for this weird…joke…not-joke…thing._

_Until she opens the door and her dress is the same blue as his suit and there’s definitely perfume present and she’s_ cheated _and put on_ lipstick _._

_(It’s not bright red or anything blaringly un-MJ-like, but it_ exists _and that’s. what. matters.)_

_MJ smirks._

_It’s probably because he’s staring at her lips._

_…She smirks wider after a moment and it is_ for sure _because he’s_ still _staring at her_ lips _._

_“Mom’s at work,” she says slowly, enunciating each word with great care. “We can go, unless you want to keep staring like a weirdo.”_

_“That’s not fair,” Peter says, finally breaking his eyes-to-lips staring. “You know I look like a murder clown if I put on makeup.”_

_“Assets,” MJ says simply, stepping out and locking the door._

_“Would be weird to go shirtless.”_

_MJ curses quickly, because he’s got her there._

_(Peter smirks.)_

_MJ pivots, emotions cleared from her face. “…I’ll take off the lipstick.”_

_“Knew I saw you staring at gym.”_

_“You had a bruise the shape of Indonesia on your ab—” Pause. “Nevermind.”_

_Peter’s jaw drops. “You_ were _! You_ were _staring!”_

_“Start the date,” MJ says making a spinning motion with her forefinger, walking past him._

_“Lipstick,” Peter says simply, skipping to her side._

_She stops, faces him._

_He thinks,_ She won’t.

_The sides of her lips curl up—she grabs his face, and he has half a second to amend his thoughts before her lips make—messy,_ really freakin’ messy— _contact with his cheek._

_It’s less a kiss and more like Ned’s brand of evil—when he’s got lips stained by candy—and Peter’s annoyed that his friend’s done it enough to MJ that she’s learned the art to a T._

_(But only a little bit, because it’s still sorta a kiss, still_ contact _, still really hot all of a sudden in the cool night air.)_

_MJ pats his cheek when she pulls away, proud of herself. She sneaks a picture, leaving Peter to wonder when she’d pulled out her phone._

_(He’s also wondering why her heart’s hammering._

_Adrenaline?_

_From distracting him?)_

_“Heh,” MJ says, tucking her phone away._

_“You’re proud of yourself,” Peter says, swiping at the lipstick marks on his cheek._

_“Heh, heh.”_

_“Real proud.”_

_“_ Heh. _”_

_Peter takes her hand, lacing their fingers together in one motion._

_Because he knows the rules now._

_The limits._

_MJ’s smug smile disappears, and she blinks, registering their hands._

_Peter says, “Shall we?” as he holds his other hand out to the car, fresh from a car wash and roof-to-rims cleaning._

_MJ says, “We shall,” as she disconnects their hands and loops her arm through his instead._

_The night is young._

_And it’s_ on _._

 

**_forth_ **

 

“So…” Betty starts, three weeks into this nonsense, at the hotel for Nationals.

(The Decathlon team being two-time winners and the defending champs did enough for their school rep to warrant an on-scene student reporter, and there was _no way_ Jason was taking this one, mmk?)

She’s been sitting with MJ at poolside, waiting for a long enough silence and letting her friend get a few dozen pages into _A Thousand Splendid Suns_ before beginning her investigation. “You and Peter.”

MJ turns to her, book still very much in her face. “Yeah?”

Betty purses her lips. “That’s not a thing.”

“It’s a thing, Bets.”

“It’s a really weird thing, if it is a thing. Which it isn’t.”

MJ keeps her face blank, but leans on one armrest, chipper in voice when she calls, “Babe?”

“Yuh?” Peter says from the pool, freshly emerging from the water. He swims over to the side, past Flash and Ned’s mini-basketball game and the others’—extremely unsafe, possibly illegal—version of chicken. He lays on his arms, raising both brows in wide-eyed confusion. “What’s up?”

“Betty doesn’t think we’re a thing.”

“Oh,” Peter says with a confused half-frown. “That would be awkward, ‘cause I got us matching shirts.”

MJ blinks, the sides of her lips curling up belatedly. “Forreal?”

(This is the fifth gift he’s gotten her and she’s two behind and _yes_ , it _is_ killing her slowly, but _no_ , it isn’t really fair because Stark _gives_ _him_ a _stipend_ and she’s _broke_.)

He nods, all puppy dog pouts and wet, floppy hair. “They’re in my room.”

“Nobody does that,” Betty squints.

“You and Ned have matching clothes,” Peter squints back.

“Ned and I are, like, _understandable_ , though,” Betty argues, waving a hand. “We’re mushy by nature.”

“MJ’s _hella_ mushy, dude,” Flash calls, failing to block a shot from Ned.

(MJ frowns at him.

That’s the last time she ever tells _him_ anything.

She thought they were _friends_.)

“ _I AM KING!_ ” Ned cheers, splashing water around as he jumps around in the water.

“I was _talking_ ,” Flash frowns incredulously.

Cindy and Abe topple over behind them, sending another round of waves around the pool.

Someone says something to someone else, a taunt or similar, and the chicken fight group starts bickering, dragging Ned and Flash into it against their will.

Betty sighs heavily as she watches the argument devolve into another round of—still extremely unsafe, still possibly illegal—chicken, but with three pairs instead of the two. She rubs her temples, bowing her head in defeat. “Nevermind.”

“ _Hey_ , no head injuries,” MJ warns them, clear and stern as she lowers her book. “You can lose next year, when you don’t have me and my genius around.”

Peter grins, wide and…

Betty could buy it.

She could.

But there’s something off in the way he’s looking at MJ—it’s not the quiet longing he’d had before they’d started “dating”, though _that_ particular one _does_ still crop up from time to time.

It’s almost…theatrical?

Betty spots MJ readjusting in her seat—she’s leaning over now, chin on hand, elbows on her legs.

She’s smiling widely at him, but there’s near-nothing there in her eyes.

And Betty thinks, _If this is them dating, they should never date._

Because, _There’s no point if you have to force feelings._

_That won’t end well._

* * *

(What she doesn’t know is that there’s a defensive part to this battle, because Peter and MJ know.

They _know_ they’re acting a little extra, a little off from their usual selves.

But if they do their usual—if they pour whatever they’re _really_ feeling into those gazes?

Those touches?

Those _kisses_?

They could lose more than a bet.

They could lose their best friend.

So they don’t.

They keep the walls up and add another—throw in a moat of rehearsed tones of voice and overworked pet names. Plow a field of very specific, _allowable_ forms of physical contact. Add the fine cavalry of showy gifts, the idealistic footmen of sounding like they’re from the upper echelon of Hallmark movies.

And, like, it’s a sucky time, sometimes.

Because if Peter’s distracted with a new idea and he does the Concentration Face thing, she knows her heart’s going to do a good eighty to hundred, and it won’t slow down anytime soon.

And if MJ’s too caught up in a book or a drawing, he knows his stares are a little (lot) different, and he won’t be able to focus on anything else until she’s done.

‘Cause, see, they’re respecting their friends’ one, binding rule.

They’re keeping feelings out of it.)

* * *

(…Mostly.)

 

**_back_ **

 

_“No one’s gonna believe we’re dating,” MJ says after dinner as they stroll in a nearby park, shivering involuntarily from a passing draft._

_“Hmm. Wanna bet?” Peter asks, shrugging off his blazer and holding it out to her. “Here.”_

_“Bet?” she asks, quirking a brow and turning so he can place the jacket over her shoulders. “Thanks.” Pause. “You_ want _to keep this up?”_

_Peter rounds to her front, but keeps a hand on her shoulder. “I think they’re gonna buy it, ‘cause I’m gonna be the sweetest boyfriend you’re ever gonna have.”_

_“I call you sweet_ one time _and it goes straight to your ego.”_

Shrug _._

_“…Fine, but I say they_ don’t _buy it because I’m me.”_

_“Lame,” Peter frowns._

_“Okay, if they buy it—which they won’t—it’ll be because I’m gonna be the best overall girlfriend you’re ever gonna have.”_

_“Overachiever.”_

_“I don’t believe in half-assing,” MJ blanks, tilting her head._

_“Fair,” Peter says, a little too calm._

_There’s a spark in his eye now, and MJ frowns at him, trying to deciphe—_

_“First kiss?” Peter asks, only slightly red. “I know May’s gonna ask.”_

_“Oh—uh—yeah, no, right,” MJ says, only slightly stammering. “That’s a thing.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_“Hmm.”_

_Peter wants to slap himself. “Or no—”_

_“Um,” MJ cuts in, stepping closer._

_Riiight there._

_Within the personal space bubble._

Well _within the personal space bubble, really, considering how he can see the intricate detail of her irises._

_“Now?” he gulps, trying very hard to remember English._

_“Screw it, right?” MJ laughs shakily. She tries to shrug, but it comes off a little stilted. “We’re gonna—we might have to, anyway. In public. At some point.”_

_“Right, yeah, of course, rightrightright.”_

_“Cool.”_

_“Yup, yup—we—should we practice?” Peter blurts out, tucking his chin in slightly._

_(If he licks his lips, MJ makes no comment.)_

_“Prac—yeah? Probably?”_

_He shrugs, one more robotic than hers. “Just—so we don’t, like, do_ this _every time.”_ Gulp _. “Freeze, I mean.”_

_“Yeah, no, that—that’s smart.”_

_“Thank you.”_

_“No prob.”_

_“…So,” Peter says, gingerly placing his hands on her waist and inching his way closer._

_“So,” MJ says, touching his cheek and collar._

_He raises his heels._

_She tilts her head._

* * *

_(_ Butterflies during summer vacation should be illegal _, they think.)_

* * *

_(_ But hell if I’m not gonna enjoy it _, they add.)_

 

_**forth** _

 

Flash’s extra training pays off, and MJ receives bows from her fellow teammates for her _smart move, dude!_ when he has a streak of correct answers, all leading to the winner.

Peter gives her a twirl and wink after the group photo and Charles _whistles_ , starting a string of cheers from the others.

Except Ned.

Ned walks over to Betty, eyes wide in annoyance as he repeatedly gestures to his two best friends.

Betty just nods, regrettably documenting the moment for the school paper, and therefore catching at least four pictures of the two doing cliched couple-y things in the background and between split group pictures with the trophy.

They won’t tell her _or_ Ned?

Fine.

She’s going to _dig_.

**_back_ **

 

_Peter brings it up again two days later, when they’re hanging out on the roof of his apartment building, popcorn bags in hand and under arm after a scavenger hunt for food in his apartment. They’re three meters in from the ledge, because as much as MJ appreciates the view, she’s still prone to wobbly legs and nausea from looking over the measly railing._

_At least the old patio furniture from who-knows-how-long is still here and free to use._

_And clean._

_That, itself, is a miracle._

_“What does the winner get?” Peter asks, opening the first of their horde of popcorn bags. “For the bet.”_

_MJ scrunches up her face, thinking for a long while._

_(If she’d thought he’d forgotten, she wasn’t about to let him know.)_

Hum. _“…To be determined?”_

_He nods, laying back on the old, rickety folding chair. “Yeah, I don’t have any ideas yet, either.”_

_“Rules?”_

_“Uh…no feelings?”_

_(He’s already lost.)_

_“Deal.”_

_(She’s disqualified.)_

**_forth_ **

 

“Does Midtown have a fitness club?” MJ asks when she plops down on Peter’s bed in lieu of, like, _Wassup?_ during a post-school study session in the middle of the semester.

“No?” Peter says on the ceiling, half-chewing his pencil as he pauses from glaring at his history homework.

“Maybe?” Ned says from the computer chair, turning to Betty behind him. “Do we?”

She looks up from her math book, her little alcove on one side of Peter’s room reclaimed by paper and more paper. “I think they’re trying to start one,” she says, glancing at MJ. “Why?”

MJ points up. “Boo-Man should join it.”

Peter furrows his brows, standing upside down to look her in the eye. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of pretending I’m _not_ Spider-Man?”

“Hiding in plain sight,” Betty says, rubbing her chin. “Could work. Would definitely explain the muscles.”

“ _Or_ I can just say that I work out.”

“Sure— _Incredibly Overworked Intern of Tony Stark Still Finds Time to Go to the Gym for Four Hours A Day_ is a believable headline.”

MJ snickers, but calls Peter over with a finger.

He moves closer.

She gives him a quick kiss, smiling and winking at him when she pulls away. “Consider it.”

“For you? Anything.”

(Ned wants to gag.

He _100%_ wants to gag.

Maybe throw a pillow at them.

Maybe actually throw up in the pillowcase before he chucks it at them.

_That’ll show ‘em_.)

“Sometimes I want to be happy for you two, but the overload of rainbows and sprinkles is pretty damaging, honestly,” Betty says, resting her chin on a closed fist.

“Isn’t she great?” Peter grins at her, glancing away to MJ once. “You’re so great. How are you _so_ great?”

“ _Aw_ , you’re _so_ sweet, Pete,” MJ smiles, laying it on _thick_.

Betty squints.

MJ’s been doing that lately.

Upping the charm every now and then.

She _can_ , for sure, and people have been assuming it’s Peter’s influence, but…

Well, you can only change _so much_.

In a few months.

Something in the back of her brain writes it down, files it away with the rest of her observations.

Mounting the evidence.

Ned mumbles, “Stay the heck away from me—diabetes runs in my family,” and crashes her train of thought.

She looks at him, barely containing her laughter. “Baby, you poor thing.”

He turns to her, exhausted as he sighs, “I just wanna pass Spanish.”

Peter flips down and pats his shoulder. “Okay, okay, we’ll stop—c’mon, show me the notes. I gotchu, dude.”

* * *

They last almost three hours before hunger pangs win over, and they decide to head over to Delmar’s, excusing themselves from May as she continues her bi-weekly fridge purge.

“You want your usual?” Peter asks, giving her a hug.

May smiles, patting his cheek. “Get two—found out that sandwich from last week was from _three_ weeks ago.”

“Gross.”

“ _Very_.”

“Love you, May,” Peter smiles, following his friends to the door.

“Oh,” MJ blanks, checking her pockets. _Tch_. She turns back to Peter, a sickly sweet smile gracing her features. “ _Babe_ , can you _please_ help me find my wallet?”

“Sure thing, _hon_ ,” Peter smiles back, toothy and—

Something _clicks_.

It’s the way they say the words—the drippings of honey altogether a little too much for someone asking for a small favor.

And a little too far in the realm of teasing rather than pure adoration.

A _curse_ falls from Betty’s lips as Peter follows MJ to his room. Betty eyes them, follows their movement and unnecessary physical contact.

(Why holds hands for two seconds before you have to split up and search a room?

Who _does_ that?)

“What’s wrong, baby?” Ned frowns, touching her elbow lightly.

“They’re _faking_ ,” Betty whispers, gawking and pointing as subtly as possible. “You said they were talking about trips for spring break at lunch?”

“Ye— _holy crap_ , they made a _bet_ ,” Ned says, eyes widening. He rubs his temples, stares at the floor. “This makes so much sense. And you’re a genius! And this makes _so much sense_.”

“Why are they like this,” Betty whines, tilting her head back and staring at the ceiling.

Ned snaps to attention, straightening and planting a hand on her shoulder. “We need to tell May!”

“We—Ned, she’s going to be _heartbroken_.”

“But we need to tell her.”

Betty frowns sadly. “…I hate having integrity sometimes.”

“Yeah, right,” he snorts, kissing her forehead. “C’mon, we gotta hurry before they get back.”

**_back_ **

 

_“Backstory?” Peter asks, chucking a piece of popcorn at her face._

_MJ catches it in her mouth, and fist pumps as Peter_ OHHH _’s. “Hell_ yes _, I am_ queen _of projectile meals,” she says after swallowing. She takes the bag from him, picking up a handful and tossing a few at a time at his face. “How ‘bout we just say it like how it went down? Minus the jokey asking.”_

_Peter tilts his head, considering. There’s about twelve pieces of popcorn in his mouth when he answers, “So I sai’ ‘ou wuh’ gruh’ n’ pre’ty, an’ a’ked ‘ou ou’?”_

_“Sure.”_

_“O’ay!”_ Chew, chew. Swallow _. “I’ll get Sweet Boyfriend points.”_

_MJ quirks a brow. “Let’s keep it fair and point out that I praised you a ton before you got to the asking.”_

_“Whatever you say,_ babe _.”_

_It’s a big flurry in both their stomachs, their hearts, their_ minds _when he says the word._

_The_ title _._

_Oh, crap._

_They’re really doing this._

_**forth** _

 

“ _May_ ,” Ned stage-whispers, calling over the older lady with highly exaggerated movements. “We gotta tell you something!”

“What is it?” May asks, wiping her hands with a towel as she walks to the doorway.

“They’re not really dating,” Betty says in hushed tones.

“They’re _faking._ For a _bet_ ,” Ned adds, hunched over and keeping an eye out for his friends.

“Oh, _you know_ ,” May sighs, relaxing. “Thank goodness.”

Ned blinks. “…You know?”

“Peter _told_ you?” Betty says, brows raised.

“Sweetie, after the Spider-Man thing, I think the only thing I don’t know about him is when he’ll learn to clean his room,” May says, folding the hand towel as she makes to start walking back to the kitchen. “And MJ told me, too.”

“She _what?_ ”

“Oh, yeah,” May grins, laughing a little with it and pausing in place. “She’s usually a brick wall, but she said she didn’t want to be lying to me about it.” She pats Ned’s shoulder with the towel, smiling wryly. “But I _still_ think they need to figure out why they’re playing for keeps in a game that doesn’t even have a prize yet.”

“They—I’m sorry, did you say they _didn’t_ have a prize yet?” Betty asks, jaw dropping.

“What about spring break?” Ned asks, raising a brow. “They were talking about it earlier.”

“Oh, were they?” May blinks, chin tucked as she moves back an inch. “That’s new.”

“ _New_? When was the last time you talked to ‘em about it?”

“Hmm. Yesterday afternoon?” Pause, as May taps her chin. “But just with Peter—I don’t think they know that the other told me.”

Ned turns to Betty, a hand coming up to his mouth and the other making air quotes. “They had a ‘date’ last night.”

Gears.

Moving gears.

Tiered machines and kinetic energy and the proverbial brain worker pushing a wheel.

(May smiles, amused as she watches the dominoes fall in real-time.)

“It’s fake,” Betty starts.

“And they made a bet,” Ned adds.

“With no end goal.”

“For months.”

“Until yesterday.”

“They go out on dates,” Ned says, counting with his fingers.

“ _Real_ dates,” Betty nods, pointing at him.

“Why are they like this,” Ned facepalms. “They _totally_ like each other. A _lot_. Worse than I thought.”

Betty turns to May, a crease between her brows. “But—the _way_ they talk…”

“Sweetie, those two?” May says, a consolatory half-smile on her lips as she pats Betty’s shoulder, “They’re… _accommodating_. Sensitive, I guess. To each other.”

May swallows, the smile turning sadder as the seconds tick by.

Ned shakes his head, raising his eyes to them. “ _Those two_ ,” he seethes tiredly.

May opens her mouth to say something, but a _click_ of a door and Peter’s loud laughter cuts in.

“I still think you hid it,” they hear MJ laugh, see her elbow her boyfriend lazily.

(“Boyfriend”, quoted?

How fake was this, really?)

Betty sees it, then.

That old, ageless fondness in their eyes when they glance at each other.

…Before they forget they’re not alone.

May pats Ned and Betty’s shoulders, pulling them in for quick hugs.

“I think they just need some help,” she whispers, smiling as she pulls away.

Peter quirks a brow as he and MJ walk up, arm in arm and already throwing their game faces on.

“What’d we miss?” he asks.

“Just some relationship advice,” May laughs, ruffling his hair. “Get going, kids. I’m starting to get hungry, too.”

They wave goodbye and chorus a quick, “Bye, May!” before heading out.

* * *

(If Ned and Betty share determined glances when their friends try to show off at the sandwich shop, nobody notices, and nobody says a _thing_.)

 

_**back** _

 

_“I got it!” Peter cheers, when they’re out of a movie theatre and headed home._

_(Neither of them had seen the movie and Ned was probably going to grill them about it to test their “datingness”, even though it’d been_ months _already, so.)_

_“The mosquito?” MJ asks, quirking a brow and rubbing her arm._

_“Oh, no, that thing’s still hanging around,” Peter says, offering a consolation of a smile. “But! The prize.”_

_MJ frowns at him and at her bites but says, “Yeah?”_

_“Spring break,” Peter grins, hopping slightly as he turns to walk backwards. “Loser has to drive the winner wherever they want.”_

_“That is a hellish idea, Peter,” MJ squints._

_He grins wider._

_She holds out her hand. “You’re on.”_

_He shakes it, still walking backwards. “Prepare for a daily dose of Montauk.”_

_She clasps his hand, pulling him towards her as she takes a step forward. “Just FYI, normal people aren’t supposed to be able to dodge trippable roadblocks while walking backwards,” she whispers by his ear, low and infused with a light jab._

_(Peter thinks,_ Marry me? _)_

_(MJ thinks,_ I’m so glad I don’t turn red. _)_

_“Uh—_ _noted,” he gulps, squeezing her hand. “Thanks.”_

_“No prob,” she says. She clears her throat. “So…”_

_“…So.”_

_“…I’m gonna. Take my hand back, now. If that’s cool with you,” she says, not taking her hand back._

_He nods._

_Also doesn’t let go._

_But hey, he nods._

_“Okay,” he says._

_“Yup,” she nods, lips pursed._

_They’re not letting go._

_If you ask them later, it’s because there are people everywhere, and witnesses can’t get in on this being_ —

Not real _, they remind themselves._

_There’s a buzzing by Peter’s ear and he_ lets go _, swats at the bug about to bite him and kills it._

_MJ pulls back, raises the hand he’d released, and points with the other. “Don’t even think about it.”_

_Peter smiles high and playful, and she takes a long step back._

_“Peter. Do. Not.”_

_“I_ saved _your_ life _,” he says, his clean, bloodless hand resting on his chest._

_“I_ will _murder you,” she says, eyebrows raising with the empty threat. “I’ll do it, dude.”_

_“C’mon, MJ—you gotta help me out here,” he says with a tilt of his head and a step forward. “Your good bud Pete. “_

_She puts her hands up in front of her like a shield, ducking her head and catching his attention. “Listen.”_

_He raises a brow._

_“…You suck,” MJ blanks quickly, pivoting on her heels and taking off in the other direction, middle finger raised back at him as she dodges pedestrians._

_“Aw, c’mon, MJ!” Peter yells, laughing and running after her. “I risked my life and everything!”_

 

_**forth** _

 

Ned lasts the entirety of the walk back to Peter’s room, and five seconds after they close the door.

Valiantly done, all things considered.

He throws his arms up abruptly once the two start at it again, teeth gritting. “We _know_! And we know that _May_ knows!”

“Know?” MJ asks, quirking a brow.

“That _this_ is all _fake_ ,” Betty says, gesturing at them directly.

“…You lose,” Peter says to MJ, smirking.

“…Technically speaking, we never said telling people was against the rules,” MJ says, lips pursed.

Peter frowns. “Babe, I love you, but you’re the worst.”

“Dude, we _know_ , you can drop it,” Ned says, squinting.

“ _No way_ ,” Peter huffs, arm tightening on MJ’s waist. “No half-assing if it’s still going.”

“MJ, you’ve created a monster,” Betty facepalms.

“Hey, he’s already part-spider,” MJ shrugs, leaning into Peter.

“She has a point,” Peter says, kissing her temple.

“Thank you, boo,” she replies, nuzzling by his side.

“No problem, darling,” he smiles back, turning his head so she can kiss his cheek.

“That’s disgusting,” Ned comments at the same time as Betty says, “Stop that.”

Peter keeps that dumb, cheeky smile on his face when he looks at them, eyes crinkling at the sides. “This is gonna suck for you two.”

“Consider it payback,” MJ adds, sighing lightly as she rests her head on Peter’s shoulder.

“‘Cause you can’t tell anyone, ‘cause that’s gonna affect the results of the samples,” Peter finishes, switching to the tone of voice he uses when thinking up experiments with Ned.

(MJ thinks, _I love him_.)

(Peter thinks, _This is why she’s never going to really date me._ )

“I’m never taking another couple selfie for as long as I live,” Betty groans, covering her face and shaking her head.

“No more matching hats,” Ned says, pursing his lips and shaking his head rapidly. “Never again.”

“There’s no way you’re doing that,” MJ snorts, crossing her arms. “That’s like, Ned-and-Betty-TM.”

“We’ll stick with it if you promise to not be extra gross when _we’re_ in the room.”

“ _Hmm_.”

“…If it’s _only_ us,” Peter barters.

“Three musketeers and d’Artagnan,” Betty nods.

Ned squints, tilting his head. “He’s also a musketeer.”

_Glare_.

Ned holds up his hands. “I’m just sayin’.”

“I think we could?” Peter says, turning to MJ. “Maybe?”

MJ sticks her tongue in her cheek. “The break would be nice.”

Peter offers his hand to Ned. “Deal.”

“We need to stop making deals,” MJ says, following his lead and shaking Ned’s hand. “Might end up selling our souls accidentally.”

_Scoff_. “You always read the fine print. We’ll be fine.”

Betty quirks a brow at Ned.

_We?_

Ned flicks his brows up and down, ducking his head so his friends don’t see the eye-roll that comes with it.

He’s had to deal with this for way too long.

“Great,” he yawns, climbing up to the top bunk. “Wake me up before dinner.”

“Bossy,” MJ says, looking up.

“I didn’t sleep til like four.”

Betty frowns, climbing up the ladder. “Were you—”

“Not nightmares,” Ned yawns again, rolling to the far side. “Neighbors had a party.”

“Hey, look at me.”

He does.

She leans over, kisses his cheek. “Sleep well, ‘kay?”

Ned smiles sleepily, eyes closing with contentment. “‘Kay. Love you.” He taps the bed rails and slings a hand over, lazily trying to pat Peter and MJ on the head. “And you guys—I love you, too. Even if you’re really weird sometimes.”

“We’ll wake you up later, dude,” Peter says, catching his hand briefly.

“Sweet dreams, Chair-Man,” MJ says, high-fiving him.

“Uh-huh,” Ned mumbles, rolling back over. “Thanks, guys.”

 

_**back** _

 

_“You didn’t have to come, you know.”_

_“Wanted to,” Peter says, shrugging as he walks into the living room. He holds up his backpack. “And—brought snacks and coloring books.”_

_MJ raises her chin, arms crossed. “I’d say you’re bribing me.”_

_“Not against the rules.”_

_“Buttering me up does nothing for the leaderboards.”_

_“Pretty sure your fam thinks I’m like, a national treasure, so,” Peter says, shrugging nonchalantly. “Pretty sure I’m winning.”_

_MJ smirks, plopping down onto the couch and moving the baby monitor to the middle of the coffee table. “Decathlon team still thinks you won the lottery, so we’re at_ least _tied.”_

_“Oh, well. Guess we gotta, uh, keep it up.”_

_“…Yeah. Guess so.”_

* * *

_What a mess._

_They don’t even bother making it a joke._

* * *

_“…We should probably. Turn on the TV. Or something.”_

_Anything._

Anything _is better than the white noise of her cousin sleeping two rooms over and the Not Making Eye Contact thing that they’re doing._

_“Good. Good idea,” Peter says stiffly, eyes flicking to everywhere that isn’t her. Pause._ Cough _. “…I don’t, uh. I don’t know where the remote is.”_

_“Oh,” MJ says, pitch up. “Right. Riiight. You haven’t been here.”_

_“Ever,” he laughs nervously._

_She nods once, robotic._

_Neither of them move._

* * *

_(Stupid white noise._

_Stupid bad idea of inviting Peter to help her babysit when she_ doesn’t need help _.)_

* * *

_She finds the remote on the coffee table on his side which is 1) cruel and 2) unusual punishment._

_Ah, well._

_At least_ Whose Line Is It Anyway? _is on._

_**forth** _

 

They’re not exactly sure how it got this far.

How it’s _still going._

Peter’s been over for dinner with MJ’s mom more than a dozen times _sans Ned_ , and her uncle considers it weird and borderline a bad omen to not have _that weirdly polite boyfriend of yours_ with her when she babysits her cousin.

MJ’s perpetually attached to May whenever she comes over, which is a lot—more than before, definitely—and sometimes Tony Stark himself calls her to check on Peter when he’s gone and got himself injured— _again_ —and it’s so…wild.

That it’s been _months_.

That they’re still doing this, well past the New Year.

That the hand holding and kissing and general ease in cuddling has become second nature in its purest sense—they don’t need to share a look or send an (undetectable, for the most part) signal like at the start.

There’s no slight pause, no waiting for a confirmation.

They just… _do it._

Peter claims a seat on the bleachers by Ned and Betty, and MJ flanks him, presses close into his side, weaves her arm through his. He’ll press a kiss to her cheek or her temple when the coach isn’t looking, and later, when she’s crouched forward and reading, they’ll readjust so his arm is on her shoulders and she’s leaning more on his chest.

Coach Wilson will give them a tired sigh, but he won’t care anymore because it’s not _technically_ PDA.

(Also, he’s sick of teenage drama, and it’s a nice respite.)

MJ makes it to Decathlon meetings early to run through things with Harrington, and, bar the presence of supervillainy, Peter shows up on-time or a little early with a snack for her and helps set up the tables and chairs.

She’ll correct him the same as the rest, and at the end of practice he’ll help her fix the room and she’ll tell him, _You did good, just need to study the cards a little more_ , before giving him a peck on the lips because it’s after school and she can.

She’ll hold his hand all the way til they part on the subway, rubbing a circle with her thumb on the back of his hand, and drawing with her free hand.

He’ll give her a quick peck at his stop because Abe’s on the same train, and MJ will pull him back in for another kiss, just a second longer.

Ned’s not sure if he wants to cheer or punch a wall, because this is almost always when he’s around.

Betty has to put on her game face to stay neutral, because she’ll either be there or hear about it later, and it’s…impossible to call this a fake relationship.

May tells them both she’s at least living it up hearing about everything: the tallies on gifts and gestures, the number of people walking up to them telling them they’re a great-looking pair.

The _teasing_ , and use of the _most annoying_ pet names they can come up with in public, on a whim, and _especially_ when Peter’s swinging around as Spider-Man, because Karen’s in on it and works for both sides.

And sometimes life gets in the way, and it gets a little tough, because there are still nightmares.

There are still mistakes—made in-costume and around soaring buildings, with sardine-amounts of people packed into the sidelines and only one Spider-Man to keep track of all of them _and_ the debris.

They still call each other.

Tell each other.

Ned always helps when he can, when he _knows_ , but _sometimes_ …

Well.

You can’t be everywhere at once.

**_back_ **

 

_Flowers swaying in the cold breeze; two huddled teens in dark coats and hats and scarves and gloves, stepping forward and back from a snow-covered slab._

_“Hey, Uncle Ben.”_

_(It’s cold._

_It’s cold and they’re in a cemetery and that’s why she’s holding his hand, and it’s just._

_Support.)_

_“Brought MJ,” Peter laughs, squeezing her hand and tilting his head her way. “We’re dating, by the way. Sort of.”_

_“Hey, Mr. Parker,” MJ says with surprising clarity, a small smile on her lips. “Your nephew’s a great sort-of-fake boyfriend.”_

_“I’m winning,” Peter says proudly to the engraved stone. “Just so you know.”_

_“He’s really not.”_

_“I totally am, and_ you’d _know, ‘cause you’re watching me.”_

_Silence, and a squeeze from her hand to his._

_Peter clears his throat. “So, I’ve been—um, I know it’s not my fault, and it’s—it’s been a while, but I miss you. And May misses you. And we’re doing okay, usually, but—there’s—”_

_“…It’s okay,” MJ whispers, touching his arm with her free hand._

_Rests her head on his shoulder._

_Tugs him closer._

_Peter nods._

_Clenches his jaw._

_Breathes out of his nose._

_“I didn’t s—I_ couldn’t _save someone. The other day. And he’s got—he’s got a kid, a freshman. And a wife.” Peter shakes his head. “A widow? And…it just…it reminded me. Of you. And me. And May.”_

_MJ’s hand tightens slightly on his arm._

_Reassurance._

_Peter glances at MJ, a twitch of his lips saying,_ Thank you _._

_He turns back to the flowers and stone._

_There’s a half-smile on his face and fondness overtaking his features._

_“The kid—his name’s Miles. Miles Morales.”_

* * *

_(When Peter drives her home, MJ tells him, with a soft voice and a piercing gaze, that she’s proud of him._

_He says, “I’m really glad you didn’t go skiing with Betty and Ned.”_

_She says, “You forget: I would straight up die on the ski lift.”_

_He laughs.)_

* * *

_(_ She’s right _, he thinks._

_He’s losing.)_

_**forth** _

 

“MJ, when I said, ‘ _Try having a near-death experience and_ then _we’ll talk about why Mr. Stark has such a hard time with feelings_ ,’ it wasn’t _an invitation_ to _actually try having a near death experience_ ,” Peter pouts, mask off as they hide in the darkness, his gloved hands caressing her cheeks, hair, forehead.

Anything to feel the warmth of her skin, to feel her alive and breathing while waiting for Happy to arrive.

(He’s never been so glad that Ned and Betty were off on a date—never been so thankful that it could’ve been two or three friends with heroic inclinations laying here instead of the one.

Possibly _The One_ , even.)

_Sigh_ , heavy and laced with guilt. “You _know_ I could’ve dodged, right?”

“You were…busy,” MJ says, wincing as she shifts a little, trying to face him better without ruining the fizzing substance on her side. “And…hey.”

Peter raises a brow.

“Taylor Swift’s…wrong.”

“…What?”

“Band-Aids,” MJ says, smiling a little—that high-cheeked, _Drawing Wilson In Detention_ smile of hers. “They…fix bullet…holes.”

(He shouldn’t be laughing.

He really, _really_ shouldn’t be laughing.)

“Not everyone has Avengers tech,” Peter says, clearing his throat.

MJ catches his gaze. Her eyes are half-lidded, groggy with pain and blood loss. “We can change…that.”

“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning in. “Yeah, we can.”

His lips are soft.

So are hers.

* * *

(He didn’t have to.

No one was around.)

* * *

“…Peter?” MJ whispers when he pulls away, eyes near-shut and voice fully breathless.

* * *

(They’re not supposed to do this.)

* * *

He gulps, forehead resting on hers.

* * *

(She doesn’t have to.

No one’s around.)

* * *

“…Kiss me again.”

* * *

(This wasn’t in the rules.)

* * *

(But.)

* * *

He does.

* * *

(Summer butterflies have _nothing_ on spring swarms.)

 

_**back** _

 

_“He’s—he’s been busy.”_

_“_ Dude, he’s supposed to be your mentor, right? He can’t just chuck money at you and ignore you for the rest of it and think it’s okay. _”_

_“MJ, he’s—”_ Sigh _. “He’s been through a lot.”_

_“_ I get that, but _—_ _”_

_“Not really. You’d—it’s a thing. It’s a coping thing. With all the—the dying, or near-dying. He’s not very good at it.”_

_“_ Oh _.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“…_ Hey, I’m sorry _.”_

_“It’s not a big deal.”_

_“_ I mean. Dying. _Is_. Kind of _.”_

_“I guess you just gotta—it’s—I guess it’s an experience thing?”_

_“_ A near-death experience _.”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“…_ Sounds fun _.”_

_“…_ MJ _.”_

_“_ Pet— _oh.”_ Curse. _“_ Hey, I gotta go. Mom needs help. I’ll see you and May later? _”_

_“Oh! Yeah. See ya.”_

_“_ Bye, love y—wait, no, my B, she can’t hear. Just _…_ bye. _”_

_“Ah_ —yeah _. Haha. Later.”_

Click.

* * *

_(She calls herself a coward for not saying it anyway.)_

 

_**forth** _

 

Karen beeps an update before Happy turns the corner, and Peter’s mask is back on as he carries MJ in, and off once they’re settled in the backseat.

Her head’s in his lap all the way through, and his hands keep her steady, keep checking her pulse, keep reminding her he’s there.

She falls asleep somewhere past Harlem, and it takes several repeats of Peter asking Karen if _I should wake her up? Should I wake her up? Is—is it holding?_

“ _MJ’s vitals are stable—there are no signs of internal bleeding. The wound has been patched properly, as per BulletAid protocol._ ”

Fussy hands are all Peter has. “Okay, okay, but should I—”

“ _Kid_ ,” Happy says with uncharacteristic gentleness, glancing up at the rear view mirror, “She’s gonna be fine. That tech’s half-Asgardian—don’t doubt it.”

“Right—”

“And,” Happy coughs, eyes back on the road, “MJ’s tough.”

 

**_back_ **

 

_There’s a gruff, squarely-built man at the doorway of the half-empty practice room, dressed in a black suit that spells out Men In Black or CIA._

_“I’m here for Michelle Jones,” he says evenly, walking to Harrington and showing him a signed slip. “Emergency.”_

_“Who’s asking?” Flash pipes up before Harrington can get a word in, eyeing the man suspiciously._

_MJ frowns, sitting up. “It’s fine, I know him.”_

_Happy’s jaw clenches. “Let’s go, MJ.”_

_“Hey, man,” Flash says, standing and glaring at him, “this is_ sus— _”_

_“He’s Tony Stark’s head of security,” MJ says simply, picking up her bag and walking towards Happy._

_Flash gapes, but stays silent._

_“And Peter Parker’s occasional pick-up,” Happy adds in his usual, slightly annoyed tone. “Thanks,” he nods to Harrington._

_“Is everything alright?” Harrington asks, brows furrowed._

_“It’s confidential.”_

_“Ned’s in the car?” MJ asks when she reaches Happy._

_“Yeah.”_

_She turns, nods at Cindy. “You’re boss.”_

_“Tell us if you need anything,” Cindy replies with a salute._

_MJ nods._

_(She won’t—she_ can’t _—but it’s appreciated.)_

* * *

_“Morita let him cut today so they could run some stuff upstate,” Happy says as they walk to the car. “Which you know.”_

_MJ nods, silent. Her nails dig into her backpack straps._

_“I think he’s gonna be fine, but he’s been out since it happened.”_

_“Explosion?”_

_“To put it mildly.”_

_MJ clears her throat. Her knuckles pale. “Does Ned know?”_

_Happy shakes his head. “He went ahead to the car. Caught him before he could walk to your practice.”_

_“Good. Thanks.”_

_“You’re calm, kid,” Happy notes as the car enters sight._

_“I know Peter,” MJ says carefully. Her fingers hurt, but she digs them deeper. “He always comes back.”_

* * *

_(And, of course, he does.)_

_**forth** _

 

“Welcome back,” Peter says a few hours later, lips twitching up. He’s holding her right hand, protecting it and warming it between both of his.

The med bay looks weird and new from this angle.

MJ watches his lips form a smile, watches them say the words.

Just watches them.

Moving.

Close.

“ _…_ MJ?”

She furrows her brows. “Did we…?”

_…Kiss?_

“It was your idea,” Peter says, morphing into a tomato.

MJ shakes her head slightly, confusion evident as she blinks sleepily. “First. First one was _…_ yours. Second _…_ was mine.”

Peter gulps.

Nods.

Stares.

She flicks her eyes up to meet his. “ _…_ Third.”

“ _…_ Third?”

“Third,” she breathes, “is _…_ mine.”

He blinks.

She stretches her fingers, reaching his cheek, and smiles softly.

(He takes the hint.)

 

**_back_ **

 

_“What’s up with them?” Betty asks, frowning at something_ not _blatant._ Not _over-the-top._

Not _how Peter and MJ have been acting since this entire thing started._

_“Peter was kinda out of it last week after the accident,” Ned says with a scrunch of his face, watching his friends. “And they gave him new meds that he has to take every day. I think she’s just worried about him adjusting, ‘cause he hasn’t taken anything since the bite.”_

_They’re sitting at a table, waiting for him and Betty to come back with their orders. Their arms are touching, but not looped—as per their previous agreement—but…_

_There’s_ something _._

_Something new._

_Ned squints. “Huh.”_

_“You see it too, right?” Betty asks, squeezing his hand._

_“…Yeah? I think?”_

_The order shaker in her hand buzzes, flashing red lights signaling the pick-up of their food. Betty passes it to the attendant, splitting bags with Ned. They turn, not making any move to walk back._

_At the table, Peter’s got a tired, sleepy smile on his face_ _—his tilted_ _head resting on his open palm, listening to MJ talk about something._

_Art, probably, the way she’s swirling the tip of her pencil around a page of her sketchbook, pausing and angling it so that Peter can see._

_He glances down, juts his lips out as he nods, then looks back at her with…_

_“Should we say something?” Betty asks, huddling closer to her boyfriend as a passing breeze hits them._

_Ned tilts his head._

_MJ catches Peter’s gaze, lingering. She’s stopped mid-sentence, letting her cheeky smile wind down to something subtler, something…_

_“Nah,” Ned smiles knowingly, turning to her. “I think they got this.”_

**_forth_ **

 

They forget.

They _forget_.

_They forget the bet._

It’s nine-and-a-half months in and they’re on a constant _outdoing one another_ binge, surprising the other and giving gifts and _being there_ and _…_

They forget the bet.

It should make Ned happier than he is, but now he and Betty are just, like, inwardly facepalming on the reg at how ridiculous this entire thing’s gotten.

Because the “showing off” isn’t _showing off_ anymore.

It’s MJ sticking little Post-it doodles on Peter’s notebooks and backpack and locker.

It’s Peter bringing an assortment of tea for MJ to choose from at lunch, or at Decathlon.

It’s poking each other on the side in silent teasing, or sticking out tongues and making faces from across the room.

It’s short kisses before sneaking out to save people, or long ones after coming back with or without a scratch.

It’s _getting real_ , and neither of them are acknowledging it.

Neither of them are letting Ned or Betty in on the developments, dodging questions more than usual and with surprising ease.

It’s like the start, but Ned’s over with Betty, splayed on her couch and groaning, annoyed and staring at the ceiling more often than not, because—

“ _They don’t got this_ ,” he whines, slumping further into the cushions. “They don’t got this at all.”

“Hey, baby, you got the answer for number eight?” Betty asks, pencil tapping on her notebook.

Ned tilts his head up, squinting. “How are you doing homework right now?”

“I’m resigned to the idea of them being oblivious forever.”

“ _…_ That’s fair.”

“Uh-huh. So. Number eight?”

“Is that the lizards one?”

“It’s cool and weird that you know that,” Betty says, pausing her pencil.

Ned winks. “Parietal eye.”

Betty blows him a kiss. “Thank you. You may return to your life crisis.”

“Thanks!”

(He stays that way for another half hour.)

* * *

( _…_ Here’s the thing.

They didn’t, like, _actually_ forget it.

They just made it seem like it, because who wants to deal with _that_ fallout?

Spring break’s long gone anyway, and they’d ended up spending it holed up in Peter’s room with the rest of their makeshift team, FaceTiming Shuri and figuring out how to take down some west coast-originating terror-tourist with a weird obsession with rhinos.

And it’s kinda _…_ nice?

To have something to themselves.

After _months_ of flaunting a semi-legit relationship.

So they just continue on and joke around and all that jazz, but the gazes have changed significantly and the kisses are a lot more meaningful and they _…_ keep doing what they were doing on the date front, because _really_.

That was the most legit part of their whole operation.)

* * *

(They’ll tell Ned and Betty eventually.)

* * *

(Probably.)

* * *

(They _might_ be stalling, but that’s okay, ‘cause, y’know, they’re figuring things out.

Real things.

That have been there for who knows how long.)

* * *

(Very long.)

* * *

(Very, _very_ long.)

 

**_back_ **

 

_“From…before?”_

_“Before the, uh, the bet, yeah.”_

_They’re sitting on the trunk of May’s car, parked way out in Long Island—past large estates and small, aged homes. Past a downtown area with an old clock tower and classic-looking theatre; past restaurants and banks and bricked sidewalks._

_Down a two-lane street and off into a hidden getaway—a secluded, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it gated mansion surrounded by flora and sitting on a slope steep enough to see the banks on the opposite side of the bay. It’s a place they’d heard about from Flash when he was complaining about having to attend a wedding the same week that Bruno Mars was in town._

_No one’s here today—it’s too cold, and even the garden’s decided to freeze in time._

_They’ve been here for hours._

_Talking._

_Not talking._

_Watching as a film crew did a quick shoot by the water, then bounce the second the sun started dipping._

_It’s past that, now—not quite golden and purple, but getting there._

_They really need to get home._

_But._

_They’re just getting to the important part._

_MJ keeps her eyes on the old, wooden house down the slope, mentally tracing the details of its windows as Peter’s words dig into her memory._

_Dig and plant themselves, sticking as close as possible and refusing to leave._

_“…In the car?” she finally asks, tossing her bangs back absentmindedly._

_“_ Way _before the party, MJ.”_

_(_ Curse _, because it makes sense._

_Because she should’ve known.)_

_Peter raises his leg, drums his fingers on his shin. “You?”_

_“I don’t…” MJ starts, shaking her head, “…I guess, maybe, end of summer last year?”_

_“That’s—”_

_“A long time, yeah.”_

_“I was gonna say, like, about the—_ uh— _the same,” Peter gulps smoothing down his jacket._

_“Oh.”_

_“Uh-huh.”_

_Silence, as they watch the sun descend, the golden clouds filling their view._

_Silence, as Peter reaches around her waist like he’s been doing for so long—reaches and waits as MJ scoots over carefully, minding her bandages, leaning her head on his shoulder._

_Silence, as she turns to face him, fills the air around his face with fog as she exhales._

_Silence, as he kisses her for the first time in two days, after she’d knocked out for 38 hours after the second round of new meds._

_After she’d asked him to kiss her again._

_After this stopped being a game._

 

_**forth** _

 

It’s two weeks after graduation when the news spills.

Er.

_Is discovered_ , technically.

Pure chance, as usual.

The _Totally Legit, Receipts Provided_ couple are sitting in the living room, MJ reading upside down on the couch (with Ned and Betty watching TV beside her), and Peter crouched on the ceiling rewriting a formula for his new web fluid.

Fairly normal behavior, until:

“So on short breaks, do I go to Cali, or are you coming to New York?” Peter asks, idly scratching out ingredient ideas.

“I can’t believe you’re running this thing through college,” Ned frowns, ignoring the TV.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. “I mean, she’s my girlfriend. And Shuri’s in Oakland half the time; I could make it an Avengers visit.”

“I’ll probably come back,” MJ says, turning a page. “I’ll wanna see my mom and May. _And_ —,” she juts out a thumb towards her seatmates, “—Betty’s NYU, so Ned’s gonna come in from Cambridge.”

“Won’t it be hard to fake date across states?” Betty asks, scrunching up her face. “And, like _…_ pointless? It’s _college_. No one’s gonna know you.”

“ _Someone’s_ gotta protect me from those pesky mosquitoes when I visit,” MJ blanks, turning another page.

“And kiss my boo-boos better,” Peter grins down at her.

Betty stands and _points_. “That’s pushing our agreement.”

_Pff._ “That contract’s void.”

“ _Well_ —wait.” Betty swivels, frowning at MJ. “What’s he talking about?”

MJ pauses mid-page turn, glancing up. “ _…_ Uh.”

“ _MJ_ ,” Ned says, standing and covering her view.

“ _…_ Yes?”

“What does Peter mean ‘ _void_ ’?”

“Void,” MJ monotones, staring him in the eye. “Noun. Meaning: a completely empty space.”

Ned squints.

Peter drops down, lays on his side where they were seated and props his head up on his hand. “So how are _you_ guys? I love you guys. You guys are gre—”

_Glares_ , from both of them.

MJ clicks her tongue, closing her book and sitting right side up. “Jig’s up.”

Peter sighs, mumbling a quick _Sorry_ to MJ.

(She pats his chest.)

“Bet’s over,” he says, looking up at Betty and Ned sheepishly.

Betty quirks a brow, confused. “Who won?”

Peter sits up, smiling softly at MJ, eyes shining freely. “Doesn’t matter.”

MJ smiles back, leaning in close, eyes fluttering shut, and—

“That’s what the loser says,” she smirks, pointing to herself as she turns to Betty abruptly. “Def me.”

“ _Thanks_ ,” Peter pouts, pursing his lips.

MJ swivels, stopping an inch from his face. “You thought I’d leave you hangin’? Me? The best girlfriend you will ever have?”

She leans back in again, slow and smiling. “ _Dumbass_. I love you,” she whispers, hands on his nape as she pulls him in.

Ned’s eyebrows shoot up, and when he turns to Betty, he finds her in equal shock, because _that_?

That wasn’t the usual.

That wasn’t a _joke_.

So they’re distracted, mentally connecting the dots.

The lack of overacting.

The stolen glances they’d thought might’ve been staged.

And they’re not looking.

They’re not looking when Peter smiles into the kiss, holds her elbow and waist, dips her back a bit and lets her know he gets it.

They’re not looking when he pulls away and his nose wrinkles and his eyes are almost shut, because he’s smiling too hard and he’s about to have the good kind of a meltdown—the one where everything _good_ is filling your heart and seeping through your core and you just hope it comes through when you say—

“I love you,” Peter rasps, laughing silently.

MJ’s biting her lip, eyes crinkling at the sides and nostrils flaring slightly as she vainly fights the smile.

(It’s _strong_ and she’s enjoying herself so _out it goes_ in the following seconds, that beam of ethereal sunshine borne of something greater than a fake relationship.)

“Michelle Jones, I love you more than mosquitoes,” Peter adds, kissing her again.

MJ snorts, breaking away abruptly. “Syntax, Pete.”

“I got two hours of sleep.”

MJ cackles lightly. “I love you, Peter Parker,” she says, bumping noses, “even if you _do_ have a weird thing for mosquitoes.”

“You _…_ you’re _dating_ ,” Ned gawks, reminding them of their friends’ presence.

Betty doesn’t add anything, just widens her eyes a little more, flounders around for the appropriate words to describe their discovery.

Peter blinks, tilting his head at them. “Yeah? We’ve been.”

“No, like,” Ned says, eyes darting between them. “Like forreal-forreal. Really dating.”

“Yeah _…_ we’ve _…_ _been…_ ” MJ repeats—slower, like she’s talking to a toddler.

“Sans bet,” Betty says, monotonous and somehow accusatory.

“Sans bet,” Peter nods, like it’s obvious.

“I’m,” Ned says, pointing behind him, “I’m just gonna. Call. May.”

“She _…_ knows…” MJ monotones, squinting. “Did you just. Like. Forget. That we tell her things?”

“Like, _everything_ ,” Peter adds.

“ _What_ ,” Ned says, feeling triple betrayed.

“Oh, also, just FYI—” MJ starts, glancing and pointing lazily at Peter, “—we really were dating the whole time. Technically.”

“ _What_ ,” Neds repeats, jaw dropping.

_Shrug._ “He _did_ ask me out.”

“She _did_ say I could, if I asked her mom first,” Peter adds. “So I did. And we went out.”

MJ leans back. “Then at the end of it I said that there was no way people would believe we were actually dating.”

Peter leans his head on her shoulder, nuzzling by her arm. “And then we made the bet.”

“You…” Betty says, rubbing her temples with both hands. “ _…_ you were dating out of _spite_.”

“Huh,” MJ muses, jutting out her lips in a contemplative frown, “guess so.”

“I’m revoking your friendship cards,” Ned monotones, jaw still on the floor.

“That means you can’t come to the Avengers party next month, dude,” Peter frowns.

“ _…_ I’m _suspending_ your friendship cards.”

“Chicken,” MJ says.

“Spite-dater,” Ned throws back.

“ _Wait_ , so—” Betty cuts in, moving a hand between them, “—this—when? _How_?”

“When you went to the Jason Mraz concert,” Peter says.

MJ snorts. “He means when I got shot.”

“A _very long_ concert,” Peter presses, ignoring her rolling eyes and amused frown.

MJ puts an arm around Peter’s shoulders. “I got out okay, Pete.”

He pouts.

“You exploded.”

“ _…_ _Well_.”

“I’m,” Ned starts, stops. He stares at them for a moment, then…

_THUD_ as he crashes into his friends, arms tightly bound over shoulders and around necks.

“You’re _dating_!” he chokes out, snuggling closer.

“We’re _dying_ ,” MJ croaks, patting his back repeatedly.

“Too bad! That’s what you get for not telling me!”

“You would’ve done this anyway, Ned,” Betty says, laughing behind a hand.

“We need to celebrate,” Ned says, moving off slightly. “Before move-in.”

“Move-in isn’t til, like, _August_ ,” Peter says, laughing.

“So _…_ we can celebrate a _lot_!”

“We’ll still be here for our anniversary,” MJ muses, staring down the window.

“Anniv—” Betty starts, pursing her lips as the dates click into place. “—I can’t believe you guys did this for almost a year.”

“Yes, you can,” MJ says, quirking a brow.

“ _…_ A little. But. In theory.” Pause. “I still can’t believe you _actually did it_.”

Peter shrugs. “MJ’s eccentric.”

MJ squints at him. “‘ _MJ’s eccen_ ’—wow. _Wow_. As if he’s not the one who swings around Queens in a red-and-blue _onesie_ using web fluid he developed _for the aesthetic_.”

“ _Hey_.”

“Am I _wrong_?”

“ _No…_ ” Peter pouts. “I was just saying hey.”

“Nevermind, I can believe it,” Betty wrinkling her nose at the same time Ned says, “Match made in weirdo heaven.”

_Jangling_ of keys and a doorknob turning.

“Kids?” May calls, carrying some grocery bags. “Little help?”

Peter flips over, leaps, and effortlessly takes load off her arms. He kisses her cheek. “They know.”

“Oh, good!” May says, clapping her hands together as she looks over to Ned and Betty. “And I bought cake—for my myself, but I’ll let you have some,” she says with a smile, calling all of them over with both hands.

“Self-fulfilling prophecy,” MJ jokes, helping arrange the groceries.

“What?” Betty asks.

“Nothing.”

“Is that friend of yours still coming?” May asks Peter, passing Betty a carton of milk.

“Miles?” Peter asks, shelving the coffee. He turns to MJ. “Did he tell you anything?”

She shakes her head, passing Ned an empty plastic bag. “Nope,” she says, looking at Betty. “Did he text you?”

“Said he’s sick,” Betty says, closing the fridge. “Some weird flu or something.”

“Huh,” Peter says, frowning. “I—nah.”

“What is it, sweetie?” May asks, pulling out the cake.

He shakes his head, laughing lightly as he starts passing out plates. “Don’t worry about it.”

“ _Oh, man_ —chocolate mousse?” MJ swoons as Ned cuts a slice from the cake. “From _Martha’s_?” She looks at Peter. “I’m dating you for May privileges.”

He smiles easy, nodding. “Already knew that.”

Ned sniffles.

Everyone turns, quirking a brow at him.

“The cake’s good,” he says simply, before taking a bite.

Betty pats his shoulder. “And MJ and Peter are dating.”

_Sniffle._ “And MJ and Peter are dating.”

MJ snickers. “Now all we need is for Flash to figure it out.”

“And the Spider-Man thing,” Peter says, passing her a slice.

“Let’s not push it,” Betty smirks, leaning her plate on Ned’s shoulder.

May smiles, pulling the cake box to herself and sticking a fork straight into the halved cake.

“Good day, May?” Peter grins, sliding up to MJ.

_Chomp._ “Ah, yuh. Goo’ da’.”

**_back_ **

 

_“What do you think they’d do if they found out?” Peter asks, playing with a strand of MJ’s hair as she lays on his chest._

Groan _, as MJ ducks her head, wrapping her arms over her face. “Dunno. Don’t care. Napping.”_

_“Hah,” Peter laughs, kissing the top of her head._

_She hums, snuggling closer, and he tightens the arm already around her waist. Her cheeks raise, the hidden smile staying put as she starts to snore softly._

_He looks up and peeks off the edge of the armrest. “May, I think she liked the pasta.”_

_“The sweet sound of a food coma,” May says, walking to and leaning over the couch back. She places a gentle hand on MJ’s shoulder, straightening out her shirt sleeve._

_MJ sighs in her sleep, moving one arm to drape over Peter’s torso, hand hanging off the couch._

_“And whatever it is, sweetie,” May whispers to her nephew, eyes crinkling as the mischief on her face rises, “I really hope we’ll have cake.”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> every time you read the words "gag" or "gag-inducing" it is not only the characters, it is also me, disgusted by what I had to write for the joke  
> -they were eating at the park shake shack in the scene with ned and betty picking up food  
> -the place they talk at after the kiss is real, you can message me if you wanna know where  
> -NED AND BETTY ARE TOP TIER YOU CAN FIGHT ME ON THIS
> 
> God bless you fam!! I've been super busy but I busted my shoulder and drawing wrist so I figured I'd finish this between readings merpderp
> 
> find me on tumblr @ doofwrites OR yell in the comment pit below if that's your fancy! comments n kudos appreciated, ilu, stay cool B)


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